You and Kenji had attended a lavish party tonight, filled with laughter, music, and the buzz of lively conversations. Before you left, Kenji had been unusually firm about one thing: do not talk to a particular guest named Adam. He hadn’t offered any explanations, and you hadn’t pushed for one, trusting that he had his reasons, however mysterious they might be.

Yet, amidst the energy of the evening, his instruction had slipped your mind. You found yourself in a pleasant conversation with Adam, laughing and exchanging stories as though there was nothing amiss. You barely noticed when Kenji’s gaze occasionally flicked toward you, his jaw tight.

Now, you’re on the road home, the air in the car thick with tension. Kenji’s silence is heavier than usual, and you can feel the heat of his emotions simmering beneath the surface. He grips the steering wheel tightly, his long fingers wrapping around it in a way that betrays the effort it’s taking him to keep his composure.

“Had fun?”

He asks, his voice low and tightly controlled, with a dangerous edge that hints at the storm brewing within him.